


As You Wish

by optomisticgirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance, The Princess Bride References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optomisticgirl/pseuds/optomisticgirl
Summary: Years after the death of her true love, Emma Swan is kidnapped on the eve of her wedding to King Arthur. It isn’t long before the three kidnappers realise they are being followed and she's rescued by the infamous Captain Hook, scourge of the seven seas. Emma soon learns there is more not only to the man of legend, but also to her own unknown past. [Princess Bride AU]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The Princess Bride is my favorite movie of all time so how could I NOT do an AU of it? This brilliant idea was originally conceived between me and always-been-a-pirate during one of our many late witching hour talks and I decided to gift it to her for Christmas (since she has been so patient while I twiddled my thumbs for months, haha). Merry Christmas my fellow Dark One! 
> 
> As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!

 

Pulling his black pea coat tighter around himself, Killian Jones paused at the white picket fence that surrounded his home, smiling as he watched the heavy flakes of snow fall from the night sky to rest on the blue house.

He loved all its nooks and crannies - the wide front porch, the bay window that held the perfect seat to watch storms from, the torrent off to the side that reminded him of the castles of old - and the view of the sea just over the white picket fence that surrounded the spacious backyard. But growing up, he had never envisioned having this life. His mother had died when he was young, a sudden illness taking the kind woman before her time and leaving him and his older brother in the care of their father. They had left the only home he had ever known and spent a handful of years moving from place to place so often that they never bothered to unpack their bags upon arriving at the new destination. After his father had abandoned them Liam had tried to make the best out of an impossible situation but life had continued as before with them constantly moving and never knowing where the next meal was going to come from. Now he had a place to call home, a permanent spot no one could take from him and that allowed him to create memories with the people inside.

That had also been something he thought he would never have again.

Liam, the compass that had kept him on the right path and his only family, had died while they both served in the Royal Navy and his sudden death had sent Killian into a downward spiral. There had been drinking - lots and lots of drinking - and he had left the military behind for a much less honorable career. That was when he had met his first love, Milah. His criminal lifestyle had appealed to the woman who had been constricted to the life her husband had chained her to, the freedom and adventure Killian could offer her eventually leading to her walking away from her husband. He had eventually lost her as well, a death that could have been prevented if a madman had only stopped to think of the choice he was about to make.

When he arrived in Storybrooke seven years ago finding love had been the last thing on his mind. He had been content to drown his troubles away with the nearest bottle of rum and continue his very lucrative criminal lifestyle but in had walked one Emma Swan, and everything had changed. She was the little seaside town's sheriff and she made him want to be a better man, the kind his brother had known and the one he had buried under years of criminal activity. Although their relationship had been rocky in the beginning - a result of outside forces and the stubborn blonde's own emotional walls - they had eventually fallen in love and gotten married.

A son had followed a little over a year later and suddenly Killian had everything that had been missing from his life. Emma, their son, and his step-son, Henry, the boy Emma had when she was a teenager, had given him back the family and love he thought long lost with Liam and Milah's death. His heart swelled at the thought of his wife and five year old son tucked safely inside the warm house and the fact that Henry would be arriving tomorrow morning, his first visit home since he had begun college in New York three months ago.

No, he never could have envisioned this life for himself all those years ago. But having it now, he couldn't imagine living any other.

Pushing open the gate with his knee, Killian strolled up the short walk, his black boots crunching in the unshoveled snow. He made a mental note to clear the walkway in the morning before the rest of the family arrived for the festivities. He didn't want a repeat of last year when his father-in-law had went ass over teakettle on the snow filled path, taking the Christmas ham with him. Smirking at the memory of David sprawled out in the snow surrounded by ham and vegetables, he quietly opened the front door so as not to alert his wife to his arrival and tiptoed into their home.

A quick perusal of the living room and dining area told him Emma wasn't there. Looking toward the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see her there either - trying to explain why he wasn't removing his coat without lying or seeming like he was hiding something would be virtually impossible. He quickly removed his boots and scarf, mindful to set the shoes where the melting snow wouldn't puddle on their new hardwood floors and gently patted the front of his coat to ensure the package nestled within one of the pockets was secure.

His wife was like a child when it came to presents - impatient and a complete meddler - and she had absolutely no willpower when it came to Christmas presents. He had learned the hard way over the years that she was an expert at sniffing out presents; every Christmas to date, she had found what he had bought her, even with his superior hiding skills. It was a trait he couldn't fault her for really, not with how her early life had been.

After being found abandoned on the side of the road when she was only a few hours old Emma had grown up in foster care. Shifted from one temporary home to another and never adopted, Christmas had always been hard for her. There was never anyone who cared to give her a gift past the few unemotional necessities such as a toothbrush or a pair of socks and to his knowledge she had never received a proper birthday or Christmas present until she found her birth parents eight years ago. Now that she had a loving family who took the time to buy her personalized gifts she was reliving a bit of her lost childhood, playing the part of a child that couldn't wait until Christmas morning to find out what lay within the festive wrapping paper. Generally he looked the other way when it came to her present meddling ways but this year he _really_ wanted to surprise her.

And this year _would_ be different.

He hadn't bought her gift like in years past but had instead enlisted Henry's help with having it made. The idea had come to him on a chilly October night a few months prior as they were snuggled on the couch flipping through Netflix. He knew The Princess Bride was her favorite movie - they practically watched it once a month at minimum - but that night she had casually mentioned that Westley and Buttercup's love story was her favorite and it had gotten him thinking. Why not rewrite the famous story to include them?

Henry had assured him it was the perfect idea and had been more than happy to help his step-father execute it in between his classwork. Killian had been stealing away for a few hours every week to video chat with Henry as the lad used his talent as young writer to rewrite the classic love story. He had picked the package up from his mother-in-law's house after work - there was no way Emma wouldn't have opened it if Henry had sent it to their house - and now it was just a matter of finding a place to hide it so his present sniffing wife wouldn't find it before tomorrow morning.

Glancing around the first floor of his home, he quickly weighed his options. Putting it beneath the Christmas tree was out of the question. Emma was a clever lass but more than that she was _observant_ and he knew she would notice a new addition to the pile already beneath the tree. Moving presents to hide it was also not going to happen - not when he couldn't remember which festively wrapped boxes contained the toys that made noise when you barely touched them - and again, Emma's investigating skills would notice which presents had been shifted around. He briefly considered the little writing desk beneath the birch tree forest painting but one look at the intricate Christmas village sprawled atop it told him there was no way he would get the drawer open without rattling _something_. Inside the fireplace was an option but with the way his luck went tonight would be the one night Emma decided to light it and she'd send his carefully thought out present up in flames.

There was the window seat behind the tree, however…

 _Genius._ Stepping over the floorboards he knew creaked, Killian quickly moved around the massive pile of presents to wedge himself between the tree and window. Avoiding the lighted string of garland that he knew was temperamental and would sound with the most ridiculous Christmas tune if touched, he carefully lifted the padded top of the window seat. Even if she went into the built in cubby hole before tomorrow there was no way she could suspect a Christmas gift lay beneath all the blankets they kept there. Leaning forward, he reached into his coat pocket and grasped the green and red wrapped parcel. He just needed to slip it under the blankets and she would be none the wiser...

"Killian?"

Letting the present fall back into his pocket Killian whipped around at the sound of his wife's voice and found himself with a face full of brightly decorated Christmas tree. Cursing under his breath as he fought to disentangle himself without knocking any ornaments or the tree itself over, he ended up grabbing a few less decorated branches at the back to steady himself before looking up. Emma stood at the foot of the stairs, clad in a simple white sweater and black leggings with her blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder and eyeing him in confusion.

"Yes, love?"

"What are you doing?" she asked as she made her way toward him.

"I-"

 _Bloody hell_. He couldn't say nothing - Emma had always had a way of telling when someone was lying - and it wasn't like holding onto their Christmas tree was something he _normally_ did. He had to tread carefully here. "I was… just admiring the present stockpile we have accumulated. Or, more accurately, that our son has accumulated. And fetching a blanket for when we put the fire on later," he quickly replied, letting go of the tree and bending to retrieve one of the many blankets from the window seat. By the time he shut the lid and extracted himself from behind the tree - more colorful curses escaping him as his shoulder hit the lighted garland and an instrumental version of _Jingle Bells_ sounded - Emma was standing in their living room, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at his escapade.

"And whose fault is _that_ , Mr. Jones?" she asked, waiting for him to stop in front of her before she grasped the labels of his jacket. _Looks like the half-lie got past her._ "You only bought out every shop in town."

He smiled, his mind instantly going to the blue eyed little boy who had claimed a permanent piece of his heart from the moment Emma had brought him the pregnancy test.

"Nothing but the best for my boy, Swan. Even if he does believe half of them came from the man in a bloody red suit," he grumbled.

"It's tradition, Killian," Emma said, tugging gently on his jacket to bring their foreheads together. "How was work?"

"Entertaining. I had to keep Leroy from throttling another fishermen for the seventh time this week."

Emma smirked at him. "So business as usual then."

Killian chuckled as his left arm wrapped around her waist. "Aye. How is our son? Still working on that rather large stash of Christmas candy his grandfather thought he could sneak to him without us knowing?"

Emma leaned back at the mention of their little boy, her face suddenly serious. "He's sick, actually."

Killian's heart clenched at his wife's words, a million horrible scenarios racing through his mind. Although it wasn't the first time Liam had been sick, every instinct as a father was screaming at him to bundle their little boy up and brave the snow that currently blanketed the town to take him to the hospital. During his years at sea he'd seen how quickly a simple fever could turn into something deadly.

"Is he okay? Is he running a fever?" he asked urgently, tossing the blanket he had grabbed for cover onto the couch as he moved toward the stairs. "How long has he been ill?"

"Killian-"

"Do we need to call Doctor Whale? Bugger that, that man takes forever to make a house call. We'll take him to the hospital ourselves-"

"Killian!"

He was stopped at the base of the stairs by his wife's firm grip on his arm. Turning him toward her, she looked up at him and gently grasped the lapels of his coat again and smiled softly.

"Killian, he's okay, there's no need to whisk him off to the hospital on Christmas Eve. He just has a slight tummy ache, probably from all the candy he's been sneaking over the last few days."

He looked at his wife hard. "Are you sure, Swan?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with worry as he tried to remind himself to breath.

"Yes, I'm sure. He started complaining after wolfing down half a box of candy canes so I made him some chicken noodle soup for dinner and he's in bed now."

Killian let out a relieved breath. "Okay."

Emma's hands moved up from his jacket lapels to cradle his face, her thumbs gently stroking his jaw. "He's _fine_ , Killian. No fever, no throwing up. Just a five year old who inherited his grandfather's sweet tooth."

Killian smiled at that as he wrapped his arms around her. "Sorry about overreacting, love."

She stood on her toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "Hey, if you being overprotective of our son is the worst thing I have to deal with being the sheriff of this town, I can handle that." She nodded toward the stairs behind him. "Go see your son."

He shook his head. "I don't want to wake him-"

"Killian." Dropping her hands to his chest she raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You know all that kid wants when he is sick is his papa. He's not going to go to sleep until he's seen you. _Trust_ me, I've threatened that Santa won't come until he's asleep and he was still insistent on waiting up for you."

Killian grinned at the thought of the little boy who had without a doubt inherited his uncle's stubbornness and his mother's determination, nodding his head in defeat. "Very well, Swan. Will you be joining me?"

Emma shook her head, the light from the crackling fire catching her blonde waves and coloring them in shades of amber and gold. "No, I've still got a few presents to wrap before the big day tomorrow. You go on ahead."

He widened his eyes in mock horror. "You mean there are more presents to be put under the forest dweller that is currently shedding needles all over our floor?"

She gave him a playful shove towards the stairs. " _Go_ , now."

Before she could completely move away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest. Careful to keep her from pressing against the package hidden within his coat, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She moaned against his mouth at the sudden movement, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair as the other grasped his arm for balance. It was unhurried, lips moving against each others in a familiar dance with just enough heat to their movements to set his heart racing - not that every kiss with the beautiful woman in his arms didn't make his heart race and he pulled away when he felt her hands begin to wander beneath his coat.

"What was that for?" she breathlessly whispered, her fingers tracing the black buttons of his peacoat.

"Can't a man give his wife a kiss with no ulterior motive?"

She rolled her eyes before giving him another playful shove. "Go tend to your son, Casanova."

He grinned as she disappeared into the brightly decorated living room, the smile remaining on his lips as he ascended the stairs to the second level of their home. Coming to the door at the end of the hallway, he smiled at the painted blue plaque that had _Liam's Room_ written on it, absently running his fingers over the childlike writing before pushing the door open and smiling at the sight before him.

He immediately had to sidestep a Star Wars toy - a Millennium Falcon - that was lying just inside the blue painted room but managed to find the one lone Lego with his foot in doing so. Biting his lip to keep from swearing at the infernal plastic that felt like it had stabbed him, his eyes moved to the bed where his very awake son lay. Liam was tucked beneath a dark blue comforter with red anchors embroidered on it and Killian could just make out the red plaid pajama top his son wore.

"Papa!"

A warmth he would never tire of spread through his chest at the sound of his little boy calling for him. "Hello, lad," he greeted, careful to avoid any more plastic assassins as he crouched beside the bed. "Momma told me you weren't feeling well."

Liam nodded, sniffling softly. "My tummy hurts."

Killian feigned confusion, frowning as he gently rubbed his son's stomach over the heavy blanket. "Why does your tummy hurt?"

The little boy shrugged. "I don't know."

Killian hummed thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow. "It wouldn't have anything to do with all the candy you've been eating, now would it?"

Liam quickly shook his head. "Candy tastes good, Papa. It wouldn't hurt my tummy."

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, Killian nodded his head. "Of course, lad."

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Will you read me a story?"

Killian sighed. "Liam…"

"Please, Papa," the little boy pleaded, his blue eyes going impossibly wide in a look that Killian was sure he himself had used on Emma more than once over the years to get something he wanted. He tried to be strong, he truly did, but the hopeful look on his son's face coupled with the slight pout caused his resolve to crumble.

"Alright," he conceded, smirking at the triumphant grin his son was unable to hide. Moving from his crouched position he took a seat on the edge of Liam's bed. "What book shall we read from? How about Alice in Wonderland?"

Liam shook his head, the dark locks he had inherited from Killian falling over his forehead at the movement. "That one is silly."

"Beauty and the Beast? You like that one because the lady in it and Aunt Belle have the same name."

Liam's small nose scrunched adorably. "I've heard that one before, Papa."

Killian looked over at his son's extensive book collection, his eyes quickly perusing the many spines. "Lad, there isn't a book on those shelves you _haven't_ heard before."

"Papa," the little boy whined. "A new one, please?"

Killian tilted his head as he mentally catalogued his own book collection. Most were not appropriate bedtime stories for his five year old son. He was about to gently let the little boy down by telling him they would have to read one he'd already heard when Killian shifted and felt something press into his leg. Blinking down in confusion, it took him a moment to remember that he still had Emma's Christmas present inside his coat pocket.

As an idea came to him, he smiled at Liam. "I think I have just the thing." Reaching into his coat pocket he removed the carefully wrapped present and didn't miss the way Liam's eyes lit up at the sight of red and green wrapping paper.

"What is that, Papa?"

"This, my boy," Killian began as he slowly unwrapped the gift, mindful to not tear it so he could reuse it later, "is a special present for your mother."

"Why isn't it under the tree with all the others?"

Killian chuckled softly, setting the still-intact paper on the floor. "Because your mother is hard to surprise, lad, and I didn't want her to find this one before tomorrow."

Liam sat up, his little brows furrowing in thought as he looked at the object in his father's hands. "What book is that, Papa?"

"This is a _special_ book: your mom's favorite fairytale."

Liam looked at him warily. "This isn't a kissing book, is it?"

"Of course not," Killian replied, removing his peacoat and laying it across the bottom of the bed before rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt. Moving the rocking chair closer to Liam's bed, he threw a quick glance at the door to make sure his wife wasn't there. He was bound and determined to surprise her this Christmas come Hell or high water but Liam wanted a new story, and he couldn't think of a more appropriate one to read his son.

"What's it about?"

Killian smiled as he sat down in the rocking chair, carefully propping his socked feet by his son's pillow. "It has all the things that make a good fairy tale, lad - fencing and fighting, a little bit of torture and revenge. There are mad men and pirates, chases and escapes. But most importantly, it has the greatest thing you can ever find in this world - true love."

Liam contemplated his father for a long moment before he nodded. "Okay, we can give it a try, Papa," he conceded, scooting back so he could prop himself up against the headboard of his bed.

Getting comfortable in the old rocking chair, Killian looked down at the book in his hand. The leather was dark brown, lovingly stretched and stitched to create the hard outer cover, the material smooth as he ran his fingers over it. The words on the front cover sparkled beneath Liam's bedroom light almost as if they were imbued with magic, the gold-leafed letters imprinted into the leather with care. It really was a work of art, one his step-son should be proud of.

Opening the book, he bypassed the loving dedication he had written for Emma in his own hand earlier and went to the second page, clearing his throat as he started to read.

" _The Princess and the Pirate_ , chapter one…."


	2. Once Upon a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!

_Long ago in a faraway land, there lived a beautiful Queen with hair as dark as the raven and skin as white as snow. She was known throughout the realm as Snow White and was loved by all her subjects. The only daughter of the dearly departed King Leopold, she was kind and generous, a firm believer of hope who sought to see the best in everyone and standing by her side was her husband, the charming King David. Although not born into royalty he was a brave and courageous warrior, a heroic champion of all things good. Their love was the truest of all love, born in the silence of the forest as his mother's ring slipped onto Snow White's finger for the first time and confirmed when the then Prince awoke the future Queen from a sleeping curse with True Love's Kiss. Together they ruled over the kingdom of Misthaven fairly and justly._

_All was not peaceful, however._

_The Evil Queen Regina, Snow White's step-mother, had long sought to hold her step-daughter's heart in her hand for telling a secret many years ago that had cost Regina her first love. She vowed to end Snow and David's happiness no matter the cost and turned to the Dark One for assistance. Her mentor in magic, Rumplestiltskin gave the Evil Queen a curse that would ravage Misthaven, transporting its inhabitants to another land without their memories and leaving them slaves to Regina's will. Knowing they could not stop the Dark Curse from being cast Snow and David sought the all-knowing Blue Fairy who told them that the child Snow was carrying would be their only hope, the Savior born to break the Dark Curse in twenty-eight years time. She advised the King and Queen to create a magical wardrobe from the last enchanted tree so that Snow, while pregnant, could escape the curse safely and keep their child out of the Evil Queen's reach._

_Unknown to them as they began preparations to build the wardrobe Regina encountered the famed Robin Hood and true love began to bloom between the black-hearted Queen and the honorable thief. Her heart once again filled with love, the Evil Queen ended her decades long vendetta against Snow White and refused to cast the curse but before she could return the Dark Curse to Rumplestiltskin her half-sister, Zelena, stole it. Angry that their mother had abandoned her as an infant but raised Regina and jealous that Rumplestiltskin favored her sister, Zelena cast the curse, sacrificing the heart of the only person she could love to do so._

_In the same moment that Zelena cast the curse Snow White went into labor and gave birth to a baby girl. Realising the wardrobe could only transport one person, Snow pleaded with her husband to take their daughter and put her into it, knowing the child would be safe and one day break the curse to reunite them. With the cloud of purple smoke that marked the impending curse barreling toward the castle David gathered his newborn daughter into his arms and rushed from the room. He could hear the anguished cries of his wife as he entered the nursery their child would never sleep in, and gently placed her within the magical wardrobe. Tears of anger and frustration spilled down his cheeks as he placed the softest of kisses to his daughter's head before shutting the wardrobe door._

_And then the curse struck..._

* * *

 

"If you keep eating that you're going to spoil your dinner."

Emma Swan looked up from the piece of hard candy she had been about to pop into her mouth and narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the woman standing in front of her.

"How do you know I'm eating it if you aren't even looking at me?"

Ingrid Swan glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. "Because I know _you_ , Emma. Every time Mr. Smee brings candy on his way back from town, you gobble it up before the poor man has even had time to reach his own farm. Besides," she continued, turning and wiping her hands on the dingy apron that hung about her waist, "I'm a mother. We have eyes in the back of our heads."

Emma rolled her eyes at the remark she had been hearing since she was six. "It's not my fault it tastes good," she countered, popping the candy in her mouth and smiling widely.

Ingrid chuckled as she reached for the carrots that had been picked fresh from their garden that morning. "Indeed. I suspect that's why Mr. Smee continues to buy them for you. Instead of continuing to ruin your dinner how about you go out to the barn and feed the horses? Supper should be ready by the time you and the boys get back."

Ever the dutiful daughter, Emma stood and retrieved her shawl to ward off the evening chill before exiting the farmhouse, a triumphant smile pulling at her lips as she patted the pocket of her apron where two pieces of candy were covertly hidden. They might ruin her dinner, but the hard sweets were well worth the lack of substantial food she'd eat later. Making her way down the dirt path that led to the barn she let her mind wander as the delicious candy continued to melt in her mouth.

Although sometimes overbearing in her protectiveness Ingrid was a wonderful mother, the best a girl could ask for considering she hadn't given birth to her. Ingrid's husband had found Emma on a forest path twenty-two years ago while heading to the nearest town. She had been wrapped in a white knitted blanket with her name stitched into its fabric, abandoned by her parents only hours after being born. The Swans, unable to have children of their own, had taken her in and raised her as if she were their own blood, giving her everything their small farmland allowed them to. She had known from an early age that she had been adopted and although she was initially sad at discovering her biological parents hadn't wanted her, that pain had been carefully and lovingly eased by Ingrid and her husband through the years.

Entering the barn, she quickly began the process of feeding their seven horses, taking her time at each stall to run her hand along their graceful necks and talk to them in a soothing tone. Her father had always loved horses and had instilled in her a deep affection and respect for the magnificent creatures throughout her childhood. A hardworking man, he was always up before the first rooster had crowed and never stopped until sundown, content to plow at fields or herd sheep if it meant putting food on the table and giving Ingrid and Emma a roof over their heads. His hands were always calloused and more than once she had watched him working with some alignment - a broken finger, deep cuts, a cough rattling his chest - but he never stopped until the fever two winters ago had left him bedridden and eventually taken him from them…

"Emma?"

Pulled from the memories of her father, Emma quickly swiped at her wet eyes before turning to see Liam Jones walking into the barn. Liam and his younger brother, Killian, had been living with them since Emma was five; their mother having died not long after Killian had been born and their father abandoning them a few years later. Ingrid had stumbled upon the pair while shopping for supplies in town and had immediately taken the half-starving boys in. They had lived on the farm ever since, helping her father and taking over the vast majority of the chores when he passed.

"Everything okay?" Liam asked worriedly as he moved toward her. He was no longer the scrawny pre-teen that had refused to leave his brother's side when he came to live with them but a young man who was approaching his twenty-ninth birthday in just a few weeks.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied as Liam reached out to touch her arm. "I was… I was just thinking about my father."

Understanding dawned in Liam's eyes and he gave her a comforting smile. "We all miss him."

Emma nodded, her hands tightening on the bucket that held the horse's feed. Liam and Killian had become like sons to her father and she knew they felt his death almost as strongly as she and Ingrid did.

"I know you do." Sighing deeply and willing the tears away she asked, "How were the fields today?"

"Fruitful."

Emma instantly blushed at the sound of the other man's voice and cursed herself internally as Killian, who had made his way into the barn unnoticed while she talked to Liam, came to stand next to his brother. While the two Jones brother shared a few physical characteristics - their blue eyes, the cut of their jaws, their smiles - everything else about them was like night and day. Whereas Liam's hair was curly and of a chestnut coloring Killian's was straight, a swatch of it forever falling across his forehead and black as the raven's wing. His build was slimmer, more lean than the hefty bulk his older brother had and whereas Liam had facial hair and Killian always kept his shaved.

She wished she could control her reaction when she was around Killian but that had become impossible over the past few years. It was silly, really. The two of them had been raised alongside her like brothers and that was certainly how she felt towards Liam. So why did she feel differently about Killian? Why did her heart race whenever she thought of him or threaten to escape her chest when he was in her presence? Why had she begun to entertain fantasies of dramatic declarations of love falling from his lips?

Realizing both men were staring at her and that it had been too long since anyone had spoken, Emma cleared her throat nervously.

"Good," she quickly responded, busying herself with straightening her shawl so she didn't have to look into Killian's eyes for longer than necessary. "Winter will be upon us before we know it and we need all the crops we can harvest before it arrives."

"Should be a bountiful harvest this year," Liam commented with a smile. "Anything we can help with?"

"I'm just feeding the horses before supper. You should head to the house and clean up, you've both been in the field all day."

"And you've helped us finish our work out there more than once to get us home in time for supper," Liam remarked with a knowing look. "Let us help you, Emma. You can't tell me you aren't dying to get back there and raid more of the candy Smee bought before Ingrid finds out just how much you've consumed."

Emma rolled her eyes at him, knowing it was futile to try to argue with him when he was in big brother mode.

"If you insist," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "I haven't filled their water troughs yet."

Liam nodded. "Consider it taken care of."

Her and Killian were left alone as Liam headed towards the back of the barn to retrieve the bucket they used to fetch water with. He studied her in that way only he could, like he could see into her very soul and read the thoughts she never spoke aloud. Butterflies fluttered within her stomach at just how handsome he looked in the pre-dusk light as the sweat of the day dried on his tanned skin. Shaking her head against the thought - it did her no good to let her mind wander down that path - she turned towards the horse she had been feeding before Liam arrived and scooped a generous amount of feed into its stall.

"Killian, can you brush the horses?"

"As you wish."

There they were again. Pausing mid-step on her way to the next stall, Emma looked over her shoulder to watch Killian walk towards the far wall where the brushes were kept.

For as long as she could remember he had replied with those three words every time she asked him to do something - fetch clean water to wash dinner dishes with, hold her cloak while she ran after a wayward goat, let her sleep in for five minutes longer - and she could never understand why. He never said it to Ingrid or Liam when they asked him to do something, only her. Before she had been unable to control how she reacted to him it had never bothered her, something she had accepted as a normal part of everyday life. It was a quirky thing he did to get her to laugh or smile but over the last few months she had begun to question his motives behind saying it. Was he mocking her? Teasing her? Was it his way of showing how much he valued their friendship?

It was a mystery and one she didn't have a ready answer for.

Later that evening, after the horses had been fed, watered, and brushed and they had consumed supper, he did it again when she asked him to fetch more firewood from the stockpile. Once his bundled form had left the house she turned to her mother. Ingrid was knitting in her favorite rocker, humming quietly as the sounds of Liam getting ready for bed drifted from upstairs.

"Why does he do that?"

"Do what, dear?"

"Why does Killian respond to every request I make with 'as you wish?'"

"You know why," Ingrid replied, never looking up from the blanket she was steadily working on.

Emma frowned. "No I don't."

Pausing in her knitting, Ingrid gave her a knowing look. "Yes, you do."

"I really don't, Mom. All I know is he only does it when I ask him to do something. He doesn't say it to you or Liam, ever. Is it… Is he being mean when he does it?"

"Of course not," Ingrid instantly responded but upon seeing the obvious worry on Emma's face she sighed heavily. "It's his way of telling you how he feels about you."

Her brows furrowed in confusion at that. "How he feels about me as a friend?"

"Emma, that boy has been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you."

Emma's jaw dropped at her mother's revelation. "What?!" she quietly shrieked, mindful not to be too loud and alert Liam to their conversation. "That can't - mother, you're mistaken!"

"Mothers are never mistaken when it comes to matters of the heart," the older woman replied casually as she went back to her knitting. "Killian loves you and his little 'as you wish' is his way of telling you that - has been since he was nine and you were five."

Emma continued to stare in shock as Ingrid fell silent, clearly having said all she needed to on the subject. Killian couldn't be in love with her! It just wasn't possible… was it? He had never shown any outward signs of feeling that way toward her and he certainly never acted like he saw her as more than a friend. But if her mother was right he _had_ been doing just that all along without her ever realizing it. She tried to think of a time when he hadn't responded to a request she'd given him with those three words and found herself unable to. She could even recall an incident from his very first night with them when her five-year-old self asked him to hand her his dirty plate and he had responded with _'as you wish'_.

That didn't mean he was in _love_ with her though.

Shaking her head against the outlandish thought Emma scoffed quietly. "You're wrong, mother."

"I'm not wrong, Emma. I know how he feels about you just as I'm certain you're in love with him," her mother replied evenly, eyes trained on the swift movement of the needle in her hand.

Emma's eyes widened. "I - I'm not in love -"

"Emma, don't lie your to mother - the Gods frown upon it."

Before she could form a rebuttal to her mother's words - because they certainly were _not_ true - Killian entered the house with a stack of firewood in his arms. Bidding both of them good-night and ignoring the knowing smirk that pulled at her mother's lips Emma quickly headed to her room.

There was no way Killian Jones was in love with her.

But over the next few weeks she couldn't help but notice things she had never paid attention to before. Like how he always made sure her plate was full before he took his own dinner, even if that meant he was the last one to begin eating. Or when rain soaked the dirt of their farm and he handed her an extra pair of socks - one of his own - to ensure her feet stayed as dry as possible. He also offered her the waterskin filled with fresh water as they tilled the soil on a hot day before he took a sip himself and she was almost certain he was moving her cloak closer to the fire so the fabric was warm when she placed it around her shoulders in the morning. The more she observed those little things he did for her the more she couldn't help but think that maybe her mother was right - maybe Killian _did_ love her.

It was almost a month after learning what those three words meant that she finally admitted her mother had also been right on her other observation.

She was helping Killian mend the fence one afternoon after the winds from the previous night's storm had knocked a few of the boards loose. Both of them worked quietly and diligently with him holding the larger pieces of wood up so she could hammer fresh nails into them. Wilby the family dog had come to investigate their work and as Emma turned to get more nails the dog went under her feet and sent her tumbling to the ground below. She cried out as her hands slid along the dirt path, unsuccessfully trying to break her fall, and a sharp pain shot through her left hand.

"Emma! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she groaned, grimacing when she tried to put weight onto her left hand. Seconds later Killian was by her side, his strong hands helping her to stand on slightly unsteady feet.

"Are you positive?" he asked again, turning her towards him. The concern and fear she saw in his wide eyes made her heart thump loudly against her chest and it took a few seconds for her to answer him.

"Yeah… my hand just hurts."

Looking down at the hand she was holding between them, she could see a deep gash across it. The cut ran diagonally almost the entire length of her palm and a fair amount of blood poured from it. She heard Killian's breath hitch as he saw the wound, his own hands coming up to gently cradle her injured one as he inspected the damage with a critical gaze.

"It doesn't look too deep, Swan. You probably caught it on a sharp rock or something when you fell."

Emma could hear him speaking but she couldn't focus on his words, not when little jolts of electricity were racing up her arm from their point of contact and the warmth from his hands sent those ever present butterflies in her stomach to fluttering. They hadn't touched like this since they were children, him chasing her around the field of pink middlemist flowers that grew an acre away, their physical contact over the last ten years restricted to the occasional brush of an arm or a helping hand. But this was something more, something intimate, and that was when she realised she was in love with him. She had been for some time if she were being honest with herself, her uncontrollable reactions when he was around the physical mark of those feelings.

_She loved Killian Jones and he was in love with her._

"I'll need to disinfect the wound before I put a bandage on it just to be safe. Can you stay still while I pour some rum on it?"

Blinking against the onslaught of emotions running through her Emma looked up from their joined hands to see Killian reaching into the pouch that hung around his waist, no doubt in search of the small flask he kept on hand for just such an occasion. It was in that moment as she watched him search for the flask of rum, his right hand still gently cradling her throbbing left one, that she knew there was only response to his question.

"As you wish."

Kilian instantly ceased searching for his flask at her words, his head snapping up to look at her with wide eyes. "What did you say?" he whispered, surprise and hope hanging heavy in his voice.

The sounds of the farm faded to a dull murmur as she stared into his eyes, unable to look away with the weight of the moment hanging between them. This was it. This was when everything would change between them. "As… you wish," she repeated breathlessly, heart beating frantically against her chest as she waited for his reaction.

A few heartbeats passed before a wide grin spread across Killian's face, his joyous laughter ringing loudly in the afternoon air. Emma smiled at the sound as her heart overflowed with love and adoration for the man standing before her. Still smiling and with tears of happiness turning his eyes the palest of blue Killian released her injured hand and carefully moved forward to cup her face, his thumbs tenderly caressing her cheeks before he leaned in to kiss her.

As their lips touched -

* * *

"Papa!"

Killian looked up from the book he had been reading to see Liam giving him an exasperated look, one eyebrow raised in a gesture that he knew the little boy had inherited from him.

"Aye?"

"You said this wasn't a kissing book!"

"Did I?"

Liam rolled his eyes in that way Emma frequently did.

"Papa… You said there was no kissing."

"I spoke a little too soon, lad. Besides, it's a fairy tale - there is _always_ kissing in those stories to break some evil curse. Don't you remember the story of Snow White and Prince Charming or of Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip?"

"Yeah, but I don't like those parts," Liam huffed, looking as disgruntled as a five year old dressed in plaid pajamas could. "Kissing is disgusting."

Killian chuckled. "You won't always think that, lad. Now… May I continue or would you rather me stop and let you go to bed?" He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Liam sighed heavily, clearly intent on getting through the kissing part if it meant he could stay up.

"Okay," the little boy conceded, once again making himself comfortable amid his large blue comforter. "But don't prolong my torture too long, Papa."

Killian raised an eyebrow of his own at his son's slightly dramatic response. Seeing that the lad was once again listening, he cleared his throat and searched for where he had left off.

"As their lips touched, Emma felt a powerful wave of energy pulse from their joined lips and something deep within her stirred at the sensation, as if a part of her was calling to the energy…"

* * *

Breaking apart with a gasp, Emma and Killian stared at each other in amazement as the rainbow light that had originated from their kiss swept across the land. They had both heard the tale of a far away Prince who had awoken his sleeping Princess decades before with a magical kiss and it was obvious to them they had just shared that same thing. True Love's Kiss - the purest of emotions and the most powerful magic known in any realm.

From that day forward they were inseparable. They were always within reach of each other and stealing kisses whenever they could, even sometimes when they shouldn't, such as the time supper had been mildly burnt because the two of them had gotten lost in kissing each other. He would take her to the field of middlemist flowers they use to play in as children and pluck flowers for her to wear in her hair. It wasn't long before she had over a dozen of the pink petaled flowers pressed into her favorite book, one Killian had given her years ago as a present for Yule. They spent many nights lying on a blanket beneath the stars as Killian told her stories of his youth and pointed out the constellations to her. Over the next six months their love blossomed and then one night, in the field of pink flowers with the stars shining upon them, Killian dropped to his knee. As the ruby stone from the ring he held glittered in the starlight he asked her to be his forever and she happily said yes.

Their joyous news was cut short by a messenger the next day - war had broken out between their kingdom and a neighboring island, and King Arthur was calling on all able-bodied men to join in the fighting.

Standing in front of the house, Emma watched Killian adjust the pack on his shoulder. Her heart was heavy with sadness but there was nothing they could do to stop the separation, not when their King was making the call to arms. Once he was content with the placement of his pack Killian looked to her.

"It won't be for long, Swan," he reassured her, smiling softly to try to ease some of her sorrow. "Camelot has a great army and Arendelle's forces don't stand a chance against us. I'll be back to say my vows to you amid the middlemist flowers before you know it."

Emma returned his smile, her hand coming up to rest over his heart. "Please be careful, Killian."

Taking her hand in his own, Killian kissed the back of it gently. "Not a day will go by that I won't think of you, my love."

Fighting back a fresh wave of tears, Emma laughed quietly. "Good," she whispered, rising to her toes to kiss him. Liam came out of the farmhouse then with his own pack slung over his shoulder and a teary eyed Ingrid following him.

"You ready, little brother?"

"Younger brother," Killian immediately corrected as he pulled away from Emma, shoving his brother playfully before moving to embrace Ingrid in a tight hug. Liam came to stand in front of Emma with a small smile on his lips.

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid while we're gone," he murmured in assurance and Emma knew he meant it as strongly as he would the vow of fealty he would soon give to King Arthur. Throwing her arms around his broad shoulders she hugged him with every ounce of love she had for him, both as her adopted brother and future brother-in-law.

"Bring him back to me, Liam," she whispered into his shoulder, a lone tear racing down her cheek to soak into the material of his shirt.

"I will, Emma. I promise."

After one last lingering kiss from Killian she stood in the doorway of the farmhouse with her mother and watched the two men hop into the wagon Arthur had sent, her eyes never leaving Killian's form until the wagon disappeared around the bend.

Over the next few months, she kept herself as busy as she could to keep her mind occupied from the piece of her heart that was missing. Ingrid, having practically raised the Jones brothers, felt their absence just as strongly and it became an unspoken agreement between mother and daughter to spend the hours they weren't working the farm on other projects. Letters from Killian and Liam came frequently, Killian's steadily growing penmanship describing their time at sea and the things he had seen while professing his undying love for her, always ending his letters with the promise that he would see her soon. They were a small comfort to her, the only link she had to him now and she reread them every night until the parchment began to split on the sides and the ink smudged in some areas.

But then the letters began to not come as often. Weeks would go by before they even received one and Emma found herself lingering near the farmhouse more, her heart sinking every night when a letter had not arrived. She knew the fighting had started in earnest, that Killian's time was spent defending Camelot's honor but she needed those pieces of parchment to know he was okay, that he was still coming back to her.

Four months after the boys had left Emma and Ingrid were sitting at the kitchen table going over the supply list when there was a knock at the farmhouse door.

"Who on Earth could that be at this time of morning?" Ingrid murmured, setting her quill to the side and standing. Emma followed her mother, her mind still on calculating the poundage of flour and bread they would need for the next few weeks as her mother opened the door.

"Mrs. Swan?"

Pulled from her internal mathematics at the authoritative sounding voice, Emma focused on the man currently standing on their stoop. He was dressed in official court clothes, King Arthur's insignia resting like a badge of honor on his left breast and a large hat with an oversized white feather in his hands.

"That would be me," Ingrid responded, wiping her hands on the apron forever around her waist. "How can I help you?"

"Are you the family of Liam and Killian Jones?"

Emma's heart dropped at the man's words, her stomach turning as dread began to settle into her very bones. There was only one reason an official court messenger arrived at someone's door in a time of war…

"We are," Ingrid confirmed, her hand reaching out to grasp Emma's tightly. "Do you have word about our boys?"

The court messenger nodded. "We received word a few days ago that the ship Liam and Killian Jones were on was attacked by the notorious Captain Hook. I'm sorry, Mrs. Swan, but the ship was sunk with all souls on board."

Emma felt a deep chasm open within her as the meaning of the message hit her with the force of being thrown from a horse. Through the rushing in her ears she could hear herself say _no_ over and over again, her voice desperate and breaking as the man in front of her continued to stand still, an unwavering and physical reminder that this wasn't a dream. Tears burned her eyes and her heart felt as if it it were breaking into a million pieces to fall into the depthless chasm, forever lost. _This can't be real._ A scream of absolute heartbreak ripped from her throat at the same time her legs gave out, her body crumpling to the ground along with the shattered remnants of the life they were suppose to build together.

_Killian..._

He was gone. They both were, killed in service to their kingdom and at the bottom of the ocean. The love of her life and the man who had become her brother were gone forever. She would never see him again, never feel the touch of his hand or hear his voice, his blue eyes only a memory now.

He was never coming back to her.

* * *

_The Enchanted Forest_

"You don't have to do this, Your Majesty."

Looking up from the unfamiliar map he had been studying, King David found the eyes of Robin Hood staring back at him from the other side of his desk. In another lifetime he would have found the fact that a former thief was trying to persuade him not to enter into a crime laughable. That lifetime was long gone however, taken from him in the swirl of purple smoke and shattered glass. Now all he had was a kingdom still recovering from a two decades long curse, a wife who would barely speak to him, and an empty, desolate nursery that his daughter never had the chance to sleep in.

"Yes, Robin, I do," he replied before looking down at the map.

Six years ago the curse that had forced him to send his newborn daughter away had been broken somehow and it was instantly clear something had went wrong with the casting of it. Instead of transporting the residents of Misthaven to another world they had remained in their own land, frozen physically as time ceased moving within the kingdom. Upon waking from the deep like slumber David had torn the kingdom apart looking for his daughter. Regina, still reformed through Robin's love, had been an integral part of the search and had used every piece of magical knowledge she had learned from Rumplestiltskin to do so. She had even assured him that if Zelena's inexperience with casting the curse had caused them to remain in Misthaven rather than be taken somewhere else, then the wardrobe would have simply transported Emma to another kingdom outside the reach of the curse and not another realm entirely.

Despite the magical aide of a former Evil Queen the Princess of Misthaven was never found and as the search continued year after year, David had begun to withdraw into himself. The hope that had kept him searching through every mile of forest and knocking on doors dwindled until nothing remained but despair and anger. He became consumed with the need to see Zelena pay for what she had done and had spent the last three years searching for the woman who destroyed his life. Unfortunately like his daughter Zelena was nowhere to be found in Misthaven or any of the surrounding kingdoms, seemingly having vanished without a trace once the curse was broken. In a final, desperate attempt to fulfil his revenge David had sought the one person who could possibly help him locate her - even if the information came with a price to his morality.

Which was why he was currently in his study, alone except for the quiet and non-judgemental presence of a former thief, and looking at a map of Camelot.

"Are the provisions for our journey ready?" David asked without looking up from the drawn lines that made up King Arthur's kingdom on the parchment.

"They are. Granny saw to it herself that the packs were filled with enough sustenance to last us an entire winter and Dopey is preparing the horses as we speak. Do you still want to ride at dusk?"

David nodded. "We'll draw less attention to ourselves if we do most of our traveling by night, although we'll traverse the marshes to the East of Camelot by daylight. I wouldn't want to end at the bottom of a sinkhole in the dark."

"It would be a dreadful way to go, your majesty."

Chuckling at the former thief's dry attempt at humor, David looked up to see Robin still standing on the other side of his desk with his arms crossed casually over his chest. He hadn't known the founder of the Merry Men before the curse hit but in the six years since the honorable thief had become a close friend and an invaluable advisor, one David leaned on far more than his actual court advisors. Robin was smart and had a way of defusing any situation with a witty remark and smile, a trait that had served him well in being the True Love of the sometimes impatient and temperamental Regina. Despite his previous lifestyle of being a thief Robin was an honorable man who held himself to a higher code than most of David's knights did, and the King knew the deal he had struck weighed heavily on the former thief's mind.

David laced his fingers together atop the parchment map. "I know you have your reservations about all of this…"

"Any sane man _would_ have reservations," Robin interrupted before sighing heavily. "I understand what drove you to do it, you know that I do, but I still question if a deal with the Dark One was the wisest course of action."

David nodded, more than understanding what Robin meant. Deals with Rumplestiltskin notoriously always ended badly for the other party involved - he had seen that firsthand with the one Cinderella had made years before - but Rumplestiltskin had practically _begged_ him to take the deal, an act that spoke to the Dark One having a personal gain in David's revenge against Zelena.

"It was the _only_ course of action, Robin. Without the Dark One's help there would be no chance of me finding Zelena and she would never answer for what she did to me and Snow."

"But what does King Arthur's fiancee have to do with it and why did he ask _you_ to kidnap her?"

"I'm not sure," David replied with a shrug. "All Rumplestiltskin said was that if I kidnapped the future Queen of Camelot and brought her to him that he would give me the means to find Zelena."

Robin gave him an incredulous look. "Is he going to become a farmer and grow a magic bean in that cell you put him in before the curse was cast?" Before David could respond the former thief held up his hands in defeat. "I know, I know. How he gets you to Zelena isn't the issue, just that he does it."

"Precisely. He could sprout Pegasus wings and take me there himself for all I care."

"But is this a path you really want to go down?" Robin asked, taking a step closer to David's desk. "You will be _kidnapping_ an innocent woman and handing her over to the Dark One for Gods only know what reason and for what - a few seconds of triumph when your sword somehow finds Zelena's heart? Is the potential blood of an innocent _really_ worth making the witch pay for something that can never be undone? I've seen many a man in my line of work taken down this road by his vengeance and lose what he holds dear, I don't want to see the same thing happen to you, my friend."

Sighing once again, David brought his right hand up to run through his hair.

It wasn't the first time the former thief had brought up this concern, nor was he the first person to do so. Snow had never approved of his need to make Zelena pay for what she had done and it created a rift between the couple, David falling more and more into the darkness of revenge as Snow held onto hope that they would one day find their daughter. But none of them - not Snow, Blue, Granny, Grumpy, or even Regina - could understand _why_ he had to follow this path, the consequences to his own soul be damned. They hadn't placed their newborn child into a wardrobe and sent her to an unknown realm, defenseless and at the whim of whoever found her - if anyone had.

That thought alone had haunted him every night for the past six years.

"I'm fully aware of the path I intend to walk, Robin," he said at length, both hands once again resting on the large oak desk as he looked to the former thief. "And whatever comes from this journey, I'm willing to deal with it, so long as Zelena pays for what she did to my daughter. What she did to… us. Now, I ask you: will you be able to do this? If not, I completely understand but I must have someone by my side that is in this plan wholly and completely."

The two men stared at each other for a long minute before Robin finally bowed his head. "I will follow you wherever you need to go, Your Majesty. I just wanted to voice my concerns one final time before we reached the point of no return."

David nodded, knowing very well the former thief had no plans to drop the subject any time soon. "Were you able to find someone to guide us through the countryside surrounding Camelot?"

"I did, yes - one of Regina's old acquaintances. He knows the lay of the land and can get us out before Arthur even realises his intended is missing. Regina did warn me he's a bit… odd and probably more than a little insane but he knows Camelot like the back of his hand."

Raising an eyebrow David asked, "Was he driven insane by her?"

Robin shook his head. "No. According to Regina he had a run in with Zelena years before the curse was cast and she sent him to Wonderland where he slowly began to lose his mind. He'll apparently jump at the chance to help anyone who wishes her harm. She sent word to him a few days ago and he should meet us on the outskirts of Camelot."

It was still unnerving at times to have the woman who had wanted him and Snow dead for so many years helping them. Regina had proven herself to be a valuable ally though, even going so far as to warn _him_ about making deals with the Dark One. "Thank you, Robin. Finalize our departure plans with Dopey and I'll meet you at the stables in an hour."

Once the former thief had left David pulled open the top drawer of his desk and looked at the amulet lying within it. With the realization that twenty-two years had passed in the kingdoms not affected by the curse Regina had used a blood enchantment on two amulets - one for him and one for Snow - that would glow in the presence of their daughter. He had worn his every day as he searched for his missing daughter but the more his hope had waned the less he had put it on, eventually confining the piece of jewelry that had never glowed to his desk drawer. Picking the amulet up, he took in the oval pearl that was surrounded by sterling silver filigree as it caught the setting sun's rays, the stone shimmering a myriad of colors in the palm of his hand. The part of him that lay buried beneath his anger and revenge urged him to done it again, to briefly consider giving hope another chance. They had searched most of Camelot for her years ago but not every piece of land had been covered before Arthur refused to let the search parties continue. What if _this_ time he did find her?

Finding Emma would solve so many problems. Not only would he have his little girl back, but his marriage could begin to heal. There had been so many fights between him and Snow over the years as he began to lose hope in finding their daughter, the once unshakeable couple growing further and further apart until he barely recognized them. His deal with the DarK One had been the final straw for the Queen who still held hope in her heart and she hadn't spoken a word to him in the five months since he had made it. If he found Emma while on this journey Snow would smile again, a real smile like he hadn't seen on her beautiful face since the curse was broken. He could forget about his deal with Rumplestiltskin and not compromise his morality by kidnapping an innocent woman. His need for revenge would slip from his shoulders the second he had her in his arms, the constant nightmares that plagued him quieted with knowing she was safe and sound. He could hold her, tell her how much he loved her and that he was sorry…

Shaking his head against the moment of weakness he had allowed himself to have, he tossed the amulet back into the drawer and shut it with a resounding crack.

There was no place for hope anymore and he had a deal to uphold.


	3. The Choices We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to not have so long of a gap between updates for this story (ha!), I'm shortening the length of its chapters. Anyone who has read my work knows my chapters are never below 7K so this will be a bit of a shift going forward (ONLY with this story, however). It does mean there will be more parts to this than I originally planned, but eh. Huge thank you to themmaswan for beta reading and phiralovesloki for being a sounding board!
> 
> As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the finicky muse!

Emma sighed as her horse slowly made its way down the forest path, her heart too troubled to truly appreciate the beauty of the landscape that surrounded her.

So much had changed over the past five years. After Killian and Liam's deaths she had thrown herself into helping her mother keep the farm going, working from sunrise to sunset and in every condition Mother Nature could throw at her, refusing to even let Mr. Smee handle the more back breaking chores the boys use to do. She had told herself it was because life on a farm didn't cease after a loved one's death but the truth was if she hadn't of done it, she would have lost her mind.

Without having the work to keep her busy she would have dwelled even more on the loss she had suffered. The manual labor forced her to concentrate on whatever task was at hand so she didn't injure herself which would have left the brunt of the chores to her mother. It hadn't always been that simple, however. Killian and Liam had spent seventeen years on the farm and their ghosts haunted every inch of it, the men's presence lingering there long after the news of their deaths had been delivered.

At night she had allowed the grief she kept at bay to consume her, tears soaking her pillow as she clutched the book that contained the remnants of middlemist flowers to her chest.

Two years later the war that had claimed the boys' lives ended, and life as she knew it had forever changed.

* * *

" _Emma?"_

_Looking up from the horse's stall she had been cleaning, Emma saw her mother walking into the barn with a piece of folded parchment in her hands and a frown pulling at her lips._

" _What is it, mother?" Emma asked as she blew an errant piece of hair out of her face that had come undone from her braid while she worked._

" _You've received a letter."_

" _Me?"_ _ **Who in the name of Zeus would be writing her?**_ _Belle, the young woman who had arrived in town a little over a year ago and taken over the dilapidated library, and Merida were her friends but neither had ever written to her before. There was no need to, really, not when they could ride to the farm in a matter of a few hours and chat face to face._

" _You," Ingrid confirmed, holding the letter in question out toward her. "It's from the King."_

_**That** _ _had Emma more confused than before. Leaning on the shovel she had been using to clean the stalls, Emma wiped her hands on the apron around her waist before taking the folded parchment from her mother. Her eyes widened when she saw the personal seal of King Arthur stamped on it._

_She had met the young King only once before. Despite the fact he had not beaten the Ice Queen of Arendelle, he had held memorials in Camelot's capital for the men who had been lost during the long war. Emma and her mother had made the four day journey to honor Liam and Killian's sacrifice and it was at one of those memorials that she had met the youthful King. She could remember him being kind and sympathetic to the loss she had endured, his blue eyes never leaving her as he praised the men aboard Killian's ship for their courage and dedication to Camelot. They had barely spoken more than a few sentences to each other, however, and she couldn't fathom why the King of Camelot would be writing her a month later._

_**Unless it was once again to give his condolences** _ **,** _she thought as she broke the royal seal and began to read._

_**Miss Swan,** _

_**I hope this letter finds you well. I know the memorial services were hard on everyone's hearts and I truly give you and your mother my condolences once more on your loss. War is a terrible burden for any kingdom, and the fine men who gave their lives for a greater cause—your fiancee and his brother included—will forever be remembered by Camelot and myself.** _

_**If you will permit me to be bold, I must confess to being swept away by your beauty. As you stood by the docks, it was like the sun had finally shined through the dark clouds that covered Camelot when my eyes fell upon you. You are by far the most beautiful woman in the realm. I can not sleep knowing you are out there, a diamond amid the dirt that any man may step forward and claim as his own.** _

_**I know your heart is heavy with sorrow now but in time and with Zeus' prayer, I hope to court you. Your strength amidst your loss is inspiring and I cannot think of a woman more suited, in beauty or grace, than yourself to be Queen of Camelot.** _

_**I will await your response with hope in my heart.** _

_**Your faithful ruler,** _

_**King Arthur** _

* * *

While flattered that a King of all people would view her in such a way, Emma hadn't taken the letter to heart and waved off her mother's questioning look once the other woman read it herself. _They were just words on a page_ , she told Ingrid, _A man smitten who would soon find an appropriate woman befitting his station to court_.

He hadn't, however.

Arthur's letters had come once a week after that, always delivered by an official court messenger and bearing his personal seal. They had been filled with praises of her beauty, telling her about court life, his dreams for Camelot's future, and how she would fit into them as she stood by his side.

Emma had never responded to his letters, each one burned in the fireplace after she read it. There were many women who would have jumped at the chance to be courted by a King but she knew she could never return his affections, not when her heart still belonged to Killian.

But then six months after his first letter, Arthur arrived at the farm unannounced.

* * *

" _You haven't responded to any of my letters."_

_Emma nodded as her and Arthur walked through the field of daisies just west of the farmhouse, her eyes trained on the flowers that swayed gently in the early Spring wind. The King of Camelot showing up on her doorstep had been the_ _**last** _ _thing she ever expected to happen, but considering the fervor his letters had contained over the last few months, she wasn't completely shocked. The problem she now faced was telling him she could never be his Queen, because to deny a King's wishes, even when you were following your own heart, was paramount to treason._

" _May I inquire as to why?"_

" _I—" Emma took a deep breath as she faltered, knowing she had to be careful so as not to bring trouble on herself, her mother, or their livelihood. "I don't believe I'm what the people of Camelot would want in a Queen. I'm not a princess or of noble blood. A woman more befitting the role should stand next to you, not I."_

_Before she could take her next step Arthur gently grasped her arm and turned her towards him._

" _You are_ _ **exactly**_ _what my people would want, Miss Swan," Arthur responded, the conviction of his claim evident in the seriousness of his features. "They want a Queen who is strong and beautiful, a woman who will be a symbol for the kingdom in times of hardship and joy. You showed those characteristics that day you stood on the dock as the memorial took place. Your heart was breaking but you held your head high and were a pillar of strength for your mother."_

_Emma shook her head. "But I'm not—"_

" _Kings—and Queens—are not required to marry those of noble blood," he interrupted. "Queen Snow of Misthaven married a man who was once nothing more than a simple shepherd."_

" _They were in love though," Emma whispered. She could see the moment he realised the real reason she was so reluctant._

" _Ah. You are still in love with the man you lost during the war."_

_Emma nodded, tears blurring her vision of the handsome King in front of her. "I am, very much so."_

_Arthur contemplated her for a long second, the cool breeze ruffling the red cloak he wore with his armor. "I believe, with time, you could grow to love me as well. Perhaps not in the same way as your departed fiancee, but there are different types of love. Or so I have been told. The law of the land grants me the right to choose my bride but I will not force you, Miss Swan. I want you to willingly accept my courtship."_

_Offering his arm to her, he began to lead them back to the farmhouse._

" _You never know. Something might occur that will lead you to realise becoming Camelot's Queen is the best course of action for you, milady."_

* * *

That something had arrived sooner rather than later.

It began a week after Arthur departed, with Emma waking up to the sound of her mother coughing in the kitchen. Ingrid had waved Emma's concerns away, saying it was nothing more than a tickle in her throat that would pass. It hadn't, however. Over the course of the next month her mother's cough became progressively worse, until Emma was forced to confine Ingrid to her bed and take on all of the farm work. The more persistent the cough became, the more Emma worried.

Then, two months after Arthur's unannounced visit, blood began to appear whenever her mother coughed.

Fearing the worst, Emma had sought the help of a local healer who confirmed her worst fear—Ingrid had contracted the lung sickness that was known to be prevalent in rural parts of the kingdom. He had suggested a move to a major city would lessen her mother's symptoms, perhaps even rid her of the disease altogether. Between her mother's rapidly declining health and her own inability to keep the farm running by herself, Emma had given in and written to Arthur. Within a fortnight the farm had been sold and they were on their way to Camelot, Ingrid with the hope that her life would be prolonged and Emma betrothed to Arthur.

Three years later she was now a princess in title if not by birth, and she loathed the deal fate had struck her.

Gently pulling on the reigns of her horse to bring him to a stop, Emma looked out over the large river that bordered the royal lands of Camelot. Despite her choice to become his bride, the love Arthur had assured her would come with time had never arrived. He was a good man and a kind king, but it wasn't enough for romantic feelings to blossom, at least on her part. Her heart didn't race when his hand touched hers and although he was attractive, his smile nor laugh never caused her stomach to flutter with butterflies. Even their kisses, which had been chase due to royal protocol, had never ignited her passion.

She cared for the young king, of course, but it was in the same way she had once cared for Liam - platonically, as a friend or a brother. No, Emma's heart still belonged to Killian Jones, wholly and completely. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of him, recalling to memory every detail from how his hand had felt in hers to the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he smiled, even the shade of blue his eyes had been. She still had the pressed middlemist flowers and the letters he had sent her, tucked safely into a chest that only she had a key for and her engagement ring with him hung on a simple silver chain around her neck. Some nights, after the fancy dresses had been stowed in the wardrobe and the tiara she now wore sat abandoned on her vanity, she allowed herself to daydream about the life they could have shared.

She knew it wasn't fair to Arthur - he had given everything of himself to her and their courtship - but her heart couldn't let go of the man with the sea in his eyes, even on the eve of her wedding.

A familiar anxiety began to choke her at the thought of tomorrow's highly orchestrated event. She had known since she wrote Arthur to accept his courtship that this day would come, but it was easy to forget about something that was far off when you were throwing yourself into learning how to become a princess and caring for your sick mother. It had started to truly hit her over the course of the last few months that this was really going to happen, and the closer the day had drawn the more she had withdrawn into herself.

The truth was she didn't want to be Queen of Camelot. She didn't want to wear dresses made of fine fabrics or glittering jewels that could feed an entire kingdom. All she wanted was her life on the farm, to wear simple clothes and do a hard but honest days labor - but she knew she could never have that again. She had made her choice years ago to save her mother's life and tomorrow, despite every part of her revolting against it and her heart belonging to another man, she would wed Arthur in front of the Gods and half the kingdom.

"A word, my lady?"

Pulled from her internal thoughts and slightly startled, Emma turned her head to see three men standing in the middle of the pathway. The one to the far right was dressed in woodland garb of greens and browns with a large bow slung across his back, reminding her of the hunters that use to pass through her home village every spring. The man on the other end looked as if he would be right at home in Camelot's court with the way he held himself, the sword at his hip and the fine leather of his clothes making him strikingly regal.

It was the man in the middle of the trio that grabbed her attention the most. His attire was strange, even for the diverse kingdom of Camelot. He wore a corduroy burnt sienna coat and a patchwork vest of differing materials—both of which had seen better days—and a large, very tattered black hat with multiple colored scarves wrapped around it sat atop his head.

They were definitely an odd assortment of men to be traveling together, particularly in this isolated area of Camelot.

"How may I help you gentleman?"

The man in the middle removed his battered hat, revealing dark hair that was terribly in need of a brush. "We are but poor travellers who have lost our way," he explained, gesturing dramatically between his two companions. "Would you be so kind as to tell us how far the nearest village or city is?"

"That would be Camelot and it's an hour's ride that way," Emma answered, pointing in the direction she had come from.

"Nothing closer?"

Emma shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"Wonderful!" the outrageously dressed man exclaimed before putting his hat back on with a wide smile. "No one will hear you scream then."

Before Emma could fully process what he had said, the blonde-haired man was stepping forward and blowing something he had been concealing in his hand toward her. As the particles of pink dust hit her she had the fleeting thought to run, but then it was gone, lost to the darkness that quickly claimed her.

* * *

"Well that was easier than I expected," Robin murmured as the Princess of Camelot slumped forward onto her horse.

Jefferson chuckled next to him. "Nothing like a seemingly innocent vagabond and the wonders of sleeping powder to ensure a smooth kidnapping."

As David moved towards the riverbank to wash the remnants of the sleeping powder off his hand, Robin found himself unable to disagree with the Mad Hatter's statement—even if he was still leary about the other man's motives.

Upon his and David's crossing into Camelot's border a fortnight ago, they had met the former portal jumper at the location Regina had arranged in her letter to him. The initial meeting had went well, but despite Jefferson seeming like a decent enough man—his eccentric ways aside—there was something about him that hadn't set well with Robin. He seemed almost _too_ enthusiastic about the prospect of kidnapping the Princess of Camelot, practically falling over himself to arrange it once David had revealed their target, and more than once Robin had heard him muttering about _what was due would finally be coming around_.

David had brushed off his concerns though, stating Jefferson was just excited to get the large purse that had been offered to him and reminding the former thief that Regina had said he would jump at the chance to cause Zelena harm, even if it was indirectly.

Whatever reservations Robin had, he couldn't deny Jefferson's enthusiasm had worked in their favor. The Mad Hatter had an extensive network of people residing within the capital and in less than a week they had learned of the princess's daily rides that took her miles from the castle and the protection of Arthur's knights. With Jefferson guiding them unseen through the land and the sleeping powder he had aquired days before their plan had went off without a hitch, putting David one step closer to getting the revenge he had sought for the last three years.

"Are we almost done here?" Jefferson asked, clearly ready to get as far away from the scene of their crime as he could.

Without responding to the Mad Hatter's question, David moved from the riverbank to retrieve the sleeping princess, carefully maneuvering her limp body from her horse and into his arms until her head rested against his right shoulder. A pang of guilt shot through Robin at how vulnerable she looked, her face relaxed in sleep with her blonde hair and red dress a stark contrast to David's dark clothes. She was an innocent woman in all of this, a bride who was looking forward to a wedding that would never happen now, and his stomach turned at the thought that they were playing a role in that.

Just as he was about to turn away from the sight of the woman who had become nothing more than the Dark One's pawn, Robin saw David pause for the briefest of moments. An unreadable emotion crossed the King of Misthaven's face as he looked at the princess in his arms, one Robin had never seen on his friend's face in the six years he had known him. It was almost as if David had encountered something that uncovered a long buried memory, but before Robin could even blink it was gone, David's face once again an emotionless mask as he turned to look at Jefferson.

"We're ready."

Jefferson nodded. "Very well then. We'll take the river South to the Cliffs of Insanity—"

Alarm bells began going off in Robin's head at the Mad Hatter's words. This was not what they had discussed while planning their escape route the night before. Why was he changing it now?

"I thought going North and skirting the marshes was the quickest route?"

"It _is_ the fastest way out of Camelot," Jefferson conceded with a nod of his head, "But we can't go back that way."

Moving to stand in front of the Mad Hatter, the princess's blonde hair swaying with every step he took, David asked, "And why can't we?"

"Because it's the first route Arthur will take once he realises his intended is missing. We may have taken her without alerting him or his knights, but it won't be long before he _does_ know. When the princess hasn't returned by sunset, he will send his knights looking for her and I can guarantee he knows what path she takes on her daily rides. It won't take them long to find her horse here or close by and Arthur is a smart man. He knows the fastest way out of his kingdom from this location is up the river and past the marshes. That trek will take us three days and by the time we've even made it to the damnable marshes, him and his men will already be there waiting for us."

"Why didn't you tell us this _before_ now?" Robin asked, more leary than ever about the Mad Hatter's motives.

"I didn't think of it until we were on the river this morning," Jefferson calmly replied. Robin raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Going South will take longer, correct?"

Jefferson nodded at David's question. "It will, but not even Arthur would think to send knights in that direction, not until we are long pass the Cliffs. It'll put you coming out a little lower in the neighboring kingdom than you entered, but I truly believe it's the best route to take. And isn't that what you are paying me for? To get you in and out of Camelot without being caught with a kidnapped princess?"

Robin crossed his arms as the alarm bells began to ring louder. There was something about Jefferson's plan that didn't set well with him, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was, nor could he question the newly advised escape route because he knew nothing of Camelot's landscape. There was some merit in what he said; Arthur surely knew his lands better than anyone and would know the quickest escape route from any point within them, but Robin couldn't see how taking the longer route to get out of Camelot ended up being better, not when a kidnapped princess was in their custody.

After a few beats of silence, David sighed heavily. "Yes, it is what I'm paying you for. If you think it's the best course of action—"

"It's the _only_ course if you want to make it out of this endeavor alive."

Robin watched David weigh the pros and cons of what had been said before nodding his head slightly. "Very well then, we'll head South."

"Splendid!" Jefferson exclaimed, showing that unnatural enthusiasm that Robin had been questioning for the last fortnight. "I'll move the princess's horse a ways up the path, try to throw Arthur off even more when he does find it."

As Jefferson moved to grab the horse's reins and lead the animal back up the path, Robin turned towards David.

"Don't say a word, Robin."

"What in Hades would I have to say?" the former thief replied, carefully keeping his face devoid of emotions.

David snorted and shook his head. "You want to question why Jefferson changed the escape route."

"Don't you?"

"Not particularly. There _is_ a reason we hired him as our guide through Camelot."

"True," Robin conceded as he moved closer to the king, "But even you have to agree, Your Majesty, that the sudden change in plans is a bit…peculiar."

"Not any more than the man himself," David responded, shifting the sleeping princess slightly.

Robin gave his friend an incredulous look. "You don't find it strange that the same man who had the forethought to get sleeping powder days before we kidnapped a princess didn't think of the need for us to change our escape route until the morning of the heist?"

"What does it matter that he didn't realise the implications of us returning the same way we came until three hours ago? We've got the princess. That's all that matters, Robin."

Before Robin could reply, Jefferson reappeared, practically skipping down the forest path.

"The princess's horse has been moved. Are we ready to go?"

"Lead the way, Hatter," David replied, throwing a pointed look at Robin as the formal portal jumper passed him.

Robin sighed internally, knowing there was nothing more he could say to bring light to Jefferson's odd behavior. David was so focused on getting the princess to Rumplestiltskin and finding out where Zelena had been hiding all these years that the king was blinded to an obvious threat. _He'd just have to keep an eye on Jefferson himself,_ he thought, mindful of the promise he had made to Queen Snow before he departed for Camelot.

As they turned to leave for the boat that was anchored down the river, none of them noticed the dark figure watching from the trees, nor the glint of sunlight on the curved piece of metal that sat where the figure's left hand should be.


	4. Of Doubts and Reckless Diving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to jennifer-morrison on tumblr for giving this a look over, and phiralovesloki for being a sounding board on all things fic related!

"It's the man!"

Startled by his son's sudden and loud exclamation, Killian's foot jerked from where it had been comfortably resting on the bed and a colorful curse tore from his lips as his right knee connected with the corner of Liam's nightstand.

Liam's eyes widened comically. "That's a bad word, Papa."

"Aye, that it is," Killian grumbled, balancing the open book in his left hand as he rubbed his sore knee with the other one.  _That was going to leave a bruise._

"You aren't suppose to say bad words."

"Sometimes, my lad, certain situations call for them."  _Although letting one slip in front of your son was still not the best parenting move he had ever made._ Emma would surely have his head if she ever found out he had done it. Wincing as he straightened his leg back out, he added, "And none of those situations are applicable for you until you are at least eighteen. Now, what were you saying about the man?"

Liam's face shifted from one of surprise to excitement at the reminder of what had made him interrupt the story. "The man that was spying on them as they kidnapped the princess—it's the one she was in love with!"

Killian's right eyebrow rose slightly. "What makes you think it's him?"

"It's how fairy tales go, Papa," Liam replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Who  _else_  could it be?"

Adjusting the book in his hands, Killian shrugged despite knowing full well his son was right. He had, after all, collaborated with Henry on the finer plot points that would mirror his wife's favorite movie, and the 'dead' hero following after the princess and her kidnappers was a fairly important point to keep in. Not that Liam needed to know he was right, of course.

"Perhaps it's a shy and bumbling deckhand, or a pot bellied, gray haired pirate who stumbled upon the scene and now has grand dreams of rescuing the princess."

"That's not romantic," Liam said with as much seriousness as a five year old could.

"Romance is subjective, lad. How about I continue reading and maybe we'll find out who he is."

Nodding his little head in agreement, Liam made himself comfortable once again against the headboard. "Okay, but I'm going to be right, Papa."

* * *

Night had fallen some time ago, shrouding the land in an inky darkness that turned the distant shore into nothing more than a shadowy outline in which to guide their vessel by. The full moon was no help navigational wise, either. The ethereal orb only broke through the clouds that obscured its light occasionally, showing them the still water that immediately surrounded them in patches of silver. Jefferson had assured him they would be fine to continue sailing through the night, but as David stood at the railing of the small sailboat the Mad Hatter had acquired, he realized it wasn't a fear of running aground on some unseen object that had his brow furrowed in concerned.

Five days from now he'd be in the cave where Rumpelstiltskin was imprisoned, trading the Princess of Camelot for information on where Zelena had disappeared. The revenge he had dreamed about day and night for the past three years was just within his reach, and he could almost  _taste_  the sweetness of it. He'd finally have justice for the loss of his daughter and the breakdown of his marriage. So why was he suddenly plagued with doubt?

David didn't doubt that the Dark One would keep up his end of the bargain. No, he knew Rumplestiltskin's reputation well enough to know that the man never broke deals when he was getting something out of it, and it had been clear by the sheer strength of the Dark One's pleading that the princess was something he desired  _very_  much. He also didn't doubt the glittering imp's ability to lead him to Zelena. The power of the Dark One was vast and unmeasurable—he had helped David find Snow nearly thirty years ago simply by enchanting a ring—and of anyone, he possessed the knowledge on how to get to wherever Zelena was.

What was causing him to doubt the validity of this plan was the very woman he had been sent to kidnap.

Turning from the sight of a shoreline he could barely make out, David's eyes landed on the Princess of Camelot. She was still unconscious from the sleeping powder and lay in the middle of the small sailboat on her side. The light from the four lanterns they had lit after nightfall allowed him to make out the curls in her blonde hair and the steady rise and fall of her chest. From the moment he had pulled the princess from her horse and into his arms, David's mind and heart had been at war with one another. It was easy to harden one's resolve against the morality of what one was doing when the person who would pay for your actions wasn't right in front of you. Seeing the living, breathing human being and knowing he was going to be the cause of whatever Rumplestiltskin had planned for her unsettled him in a way he hadn't been prepared for. He knew it was largely his conscious, a piece of the honorable man he use to be rising to the surface and demanding he look at the choices he was making, but it was more than that.

Whenever he looked at the princess he couldn't help but be reminded of his daughter. She looked to be the same age as Emma would be and was strikingly close to the image he had formed in his mind of what his adult daughter might look like. If he turned his head a certain way, he could even swear she had Snow's chin and his ears—which was an absurd thought. Lots of people had that chin and ear shape. It didn't mean they were related to him. Still, he couldn't stop his mind from comparing the two women.

He wondered if Emma would have already found love like the princess had, and if the man who captured his daughter's heart would be royalty or a commoner like he had once been. Would Emma have had the same carefree and peaceful lifestyle as the woman laying at his feet if she had grown up in the safety of a castle instead of gods only knew where? He knew nothing of the Princess of Camelot's past, but she certainly didn't seem to have ever worried for anything, if the fine material of her gown was anything to go by. In the early years after the curse was broken, Snow had confided to him that she dreamed of Emma going to balls and dressing in beautiful gowns. Did the princess enjoy those things as his daughter might have? Would Emma's hair be the same sunshine color currently pooled on the deck of the sailboat, or would it be as black as Snow's was?

David shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts only lead to a path of heartache and served to further his doubts, an act he wouldn't tolerate. Nothing was going to get in the way of his revenge, not even Emma's ghost. Glancing away from the woman that made him think of the daughter he had lost, David looked towards the helm where Jefferson stood steering the sailboat.

"How long until we reach the cliffs?"

"By dawn at the earliest," the Mad Hatter replied without turning around. He had been oddly reserved since they boarded the boat and set sail, his usual long winded and rambling replies replaced with short and direct responses whenever David or Robin asked him a question.

David nodded despite the fact the other man couldn't see the movement. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but Jefferson had assured him the new route would see them safely out of Camelot, and that was all the King of Misthaven cared about.

"You can't get us there any sooner?" Robin called from his position at the stern of the boat.

"This is a sailboat, not an enchanted ship," Jefferson shot back before looking over his shoulder at the former thief. "What in the nine hells are you doing?"

Turning to see what the Mad Hatter was talking about, David saw Robin standing with his back to them, his gaze fixed on the inky blackness that lay behind them.

Without turning around Robin replied, "Making sure no one is following us."

Jefferson huffed in annoyance before turning his attention back to the helm. "We aren't being followed. Arthur and his men are heading towards the marshes as we speak, and since no one witnessed us kidnapping the princess, there's no private citizen trying to rescue her for some monetary reward. You're paranoid, Hood."

"No, I simply don't trust you."

David didn't miss the way Jefferson's shoulders stiffened at the former thief's remark, but he brushed the action away as the Mad Hatter taking offense to not-so subtly being called a liar. He couldn't blame the man for being upset. Robin had been leery of the man's motives since they met, which made no sense to David. Regina had assured Robin that Jefferson would make the best guide in and out of Camelot, so why didn't Robin trust his wife? David certainly did, which spoke to just how far he had come in forgiving the former Evil Queen for her past actions.

Before he could say anything to his friend a quiet groan sounded from the deck, and looking down, he saw the princess's eyelids flutter. Her head rolled to the side as she slowly came to, another pained groan falling from her lips along with a slurred saying that the King of Misthaven could have sworn sounded like an expletive.

* * *

"What's an explative, Papa?"

"Expletive," Killian automatically corrected with the well used patience of a parent. "It's what I said earlier when I hit my knee."

"Oh." Looking up from the book, he saw Liam's brow furrowed adorably. "So, it's a bad word?"

"Aye."

His son gave him a doubtful look. "Princesses don't say bad words."

"You'd be surprised, lad," Killian replied before continuing to read.

* * *

Having been told by Jefferson of the side effects most people felt upon waking from sleeping powder, David grabbed their flask filled with fresh water and knelt next to the disoriented princess.

"Here, this will make you feel better."

He aided her in taking a few sips of the refreshing liquid, careful to ensure she didn't drink too much for her prone position. Once he was certain the pounding in her head had eased off due to the lack of painful groans, David helped her into a sitting position and maneuvered her hands to hold the flask herself. She was clearly dazed, her eyes not really focusing on him or any one detail in particular as she attempted to shake off the last vestige of sleeping powder.

"Wh—where am I?" she asked, her voice quiet and hoarse from sleep.

David started to respond but Jefferson spoke first.

"You're on the Grail River, your Highness, and you've been kidnapped."

David glared at the smirking man before returning his attention to the princess. He could tell she didn't fully comprehend the Mad Hatter's words at first, her unfocused eyes moving to Jefferson and then back to him, but after a few seconds clarity returned to her. He saw the moment it did—her green eyes widening, fear momentarily flashing across her face before it was replaced with anger, her body stiffening—and in the blink of an eye she reacted.

The flask he'd placed in her hands was shoved directly into his nose with more strength than David would have suspected a princess to have, and he fell backwards onto the deck with a pained shout. Stars filled his vision and blood began to pour from his nose almost immediately, but a quick examination with his own hand told him it wasn't broken. Through the throbbing pain, he could hear Robin shouting, and something in his friend's tone sent a chill down David's spine.

Forcing his eyes open, David cleared the tears blurring his vision just in time to see the Princess of Camelot jump off the side of the boat.

* * *

_She was in danger._

That was the only thought going through Emma's mind once the fog cleared and she registered the stranger's words. Without thinking she slammed the heavy object in her hands at the blonde haired man kneeling in front of her, putting every ounce of muscle she had gained from working on a farm into the movement. As soon as it connected with her intended target she dropped it and stood, stubbornly ignoring the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake while she quickly took in her surroundings. It had clearly been some time since they kidnapped her, since she had went for her daily ride early that afternoon and it was now nighttime. She was also on a small sailing vessel that looked like it had seen better days on the water, and she wasn't alone with the man sitting on deck holding his bloody nose. There was a man on either end of the boat—the other two who had been there when she was knocked out—and both of them had turned to look in her direction at their friend's shout.

Following her survival instinct, Emma clambered onto the boat's railing, the adrenalin coursing through her body giving her the ability to ignore the pain when her right foot initially lost its hold and her knee connected with the side of the railing. She could hear the man who had been wearing woodland garb shout something at her but she ignored it. With one hastily drawn breath and a silent thanks to Liam for teaching her to swim, she jumped as far into the darkened waters as she could.

The second Emma propelled herself up from her initial dive into the water, she began to swim away from the boat and her would-be kidnappers. In between strokes she could hear two of the men arguing while the one was still shouting about danger, a fact that would have made her laugh if she wasn't using all her energy to keep herself from sinking because of the weight from her wet dress. The danger was being on the boat with them,  _not_ in the water.

She had only managed to get about ten feet away when she heard it—a high-pitched and very distinctive shriek. Emma instantly stopped swimming at the sound, a horrible realization sinking over her as she fought to tread water.  _That was what her one kidnapper had meant by danger._  They were in the Grail River, and while it was one of Camelot's most beautiful landscapes, it was also its deadliest. The deep river had been infested with a species of monster for generations, one that had become a warning story for children not to wander by the shore alone and the very reason Arthur's grandfather had made a royal decree banning all swimming in its waters.

It was the very water she was now in, alone, without a weapon of any kind.

"Do you know what that sound is, your Highness?"

Emma ignored the mocking question, her eyes focused on the water for the telltale ripple that preceded the creature's attack.

"That is the sound of a Shrieking Eel. Nasty creatures if I do say so. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human  _flesh_."

Emma glared over her shoulder at the kidnapper who sounded gleeful about her predicament, the grin on the man with the tattered top hat making her blood boil. She did note, however, that the other two kidnappers seemed genuinely worried for her, and the man whose nose she had smashed looked particularly stricken. Another shriek sounded, this time closer, and Emma's head whipped back around to the stretch of water in front of her.

At first she didn't see anything, but then from the corner of her left eye she saw the surface of the river ripple and her breath caught in her throat. The Shrieking Eel was less than twelve feet away from her and was moving closer with every second that ticked by. Keeping her movements in the water to a minimum, Emma quickly weighed how likely it was for her to reach shore before the creature attacked. She was a strong swimmer thanks to Liam's tutelage, but the Shrieking Eels had taken down even stronger swimmers before, and in the darkness she couldn't accurately judge how far she was from the shoreline. No, she wouldn't be able to out swim it. She'd have to fight it off somehow or die trying.

Another shriek, this time from her right, had Emma's heart beating rapidly against her chest. She could just make out the Shrieking Eels' dark body slithering beneath the surface of the water from the small bit of moonlight now visible, and in the blink of an eye the massive creature turned directly towards her. Tightening her right hand into a fist—her only real weapon—Emma was preparing herself for a life and death struggle when an unfamiliar hum began to roll through her body. It seemed to start somewhere at the center of her being and rapidly made its way outward, a gentle yet insistent wave that eventually reached to the very tips of her fingers and toes.

Emma's entire body filled with the humming sensation, and just as the Shrieking Eel's head broke the surface of the water she punched. Something from inside her surged forward, the hum intensifying as it raced through her and out where her closed hand made contact with the eel's slimy skin. There was a brief flash of light and then the eel was shrieking in pain, it's gigantic mass quickly swimming away from her with sounds of pain following its retreat.

Emma laughed in triumphant. She didn't know where that rush of adrenalin had come from, or how she'd managed not to get zapped from the eel's electricity, but she wasn't about to question any of it considering she was still breathing.

A shriek to her left cut her victory short, and Emma turned her head to find the first Shrieking Eel she had seen bearing down on her. She had been so focused on the other one that she hadn't kept an eye on this one's movements, and now there was no time to prepare for an attack. Just as the Shrieking Eel opened its mouth to reveal row upon row of sharp, fanged teeth, a flash of steel came from Emma's right.

One second she was staring down the creature's throat, the next she was watching its lifeless body sink beneath the waters of the Grail River, a detached head with its mouth forever open in an attack that wouldn't come following the same path seconds later. Shocked and confused, Emma turned to see the kidnapper whose nose she had smashed in the water next to her, a great long sword dripping with black blood held in his right hand. He'd clearly jumped into the water at some point during her altercation with the first Shrieking Eel and had reached her just in time to save her from the second one.

The thought both relieved and distressed her. He may have saved her from one of the monstrous creatures that roamed these waters, but his presence undoubtedly meant he would be taking her back to the boat—and back to being a hostage. Emma briefly entertained the idea of fighting him off and continuing her swim to shore when another high-pitched shriek sounded in the distance. There were more Shrieking Eels, probably hundreds that would have heard the cries of the others, and there was no way she had the energy or means to fight all of them off before she reached the shoreline.

Her best chance of survival, ironically enough, was with her kidnappers.

Emma willingly followed as her kidnapper guided her towards the boat, her mind already working through a variety of ways to escape once they reached land. A rope ladder was hanging over the side of the ship when they reached the wooden vessel, and the man in woodland garb was waiting at the top to help Emma over the railing safely. As soon as her feet touched the deck, the man with the tattered top hat grabbed her arm and roughly lead her to a crate sitting next to the mast.

He quickly began to tie her hands together with a piece of rope from the rigging - presumably to keep her from making another attempt at swimming away. It wasn't needed. Emma had no desire to rejoin the Shrieking Eels any time soon.

"You didn't tell me she had magic!" he shouted angrily towards the blonde man who had just climbed aboard. It took Emma a long moment to realize he was talking about  _her_ , and she stared at him in confusion.

"Magic? I—I don't have magic."

Clearly not liking her response, he pulled particularly hard on the final knot he made in her binds, causing Emma to wince as the rope bit into her skin.

"Be gentle!" the kidnapper who had saved her from the Shrieking Eels barked even as he wiped at the blood still running from his nose with a handkerchief. The concern Emma heard in his voice added to her confusion.  _Why did he care if his hostage was bound too tightly? Surely that's what he wanted._ The man with the tattered top hat glared at the other man before returning his attention to her, his blue eyes bright with anger in the low light from the lanterns.

"You defeated the first eel with magic."

"I defeated him by punching him!" Emma countered, her voice rising slightly with the absurdity of what the man was implying. She'd know if she had magic, and she most certainly  _did not_.

The man with the tattered top hat laughed. "Those are ancient, magical creatures, your  _Highness_. They aren't easily defeated just because someone gives them a good right hook. You used magic," he said, emphasising his last sentence with a pointed finger at her.

Anger rose sharply within Emma.  _How dare this pathetic excuse of a man who had_ kidnapped _her claim to know anything about her, particularly something that wasn't true._

"I told you, I don't have magic!"

Before he could say another word, the blonde haired man stepped forward and none too gently pushed the man who had tied her hands away. "Enough!" Turning to Emma he smiled, and for some reason the action calmed her rather than infuriate her more.

"You may not think you have magic, but there was a white light when you struck the eel. In my experience that sort of light can only come through the use of magic."

"What you saw was the Shrieking Eels' natural defense," she informed him with an annoyed huff. "Besides being able to feed on human flesh, why else do you think the creatures weren't killed off centuries ago? When attacked, they emit a light very similar to lightning which stuns their attacker.  _That's_ the light you saw—I just managed to get a good punch in before it was activated."

"Shrieking Eels don't run from a simple punch!" the man with the tattered top hat snapped. "Only magic can hurt them, and I know magic when I see it. Keep telling yourself whatever you have to, your Highness. And you—" Turning his attention to the blonde haired man who still stood between him and Emma, he continued, "I require double what my promised payment was."

For the first time since the effects of whatever they had doused her with wore off, Emma saw true anger flash across the face of the man whose nose she had bloodied.

"That wasn't what we agreed upon."

"She has magic—that changes everything!"

"It changes  _nothing_. You'll stick to the plan  _and_  your agreed upon payment or—"

"Gentleman."

Tearing her eyes away from the two men locked in a heated argument, Emma saw her third kidnapper standing by the stern of the boat with his back towards them.

"What do you want now?!" the man with the tattered top hat snapped.

Turning around, the man in woodland garb shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know we are being followed."

Hope soared within Emma's chest as the two men rushed to join their companion.  _Arthur!_ She may not be in love with him, but she knew her fiance would send every Knight and ship to find her once he realized Emma had been kidnapped. Camelot housed some of the fastest ships in the realm, and it was only a matter of time before she was rescued.

"It's probably some local fisherman," the man with the tattered top hat tried to explain logically with a wave of his hand. Emma watched as the man in woodland garb gave him an incredulous look.

"Through  _eel-infested_ waters and on a  _naval_ ship?"

She smiled at the confirmation that it was, in fact, a ship only Arthur would have sent behind them.

"Stranger things have happened."

"That's pretty strange even for these circumstances!" the man in woodland garb shot back. Before her other kidnapper could respond, the man who had jumped into the Grail River to save her turned and grabbed the tattered top hat wearing man by the labels of his corduroy coat.

"Get us to the cliffs, or Hera help me, what Arthur's men will do to you is  _nothing_ compared to the punishment I'll bestow upon you if I lose my only means of revenge, Hatter!"


End file.
